Pieces of a Whole
by Mary James
Summary: George and Hermione move on, with and without each other. Rated M for later parts. Not completely canon compliant.
1. Part One

Author's Note/ Disclaimer  
So this has been hanging around in my unfinished stories since before _Deathly Hallows_ was released. The beginning here is not exactly compatible because, as mentioned, I started it before the seventh book came out. And, as you'll see, it's not exactly compatible with the epilogue either. It was originally just going to be porn, and there's definitely some in the next part, but it turned into a much bigger project. And, like always, the characters are not mine, they're Rowlings. So without further ado, enjoy the first part!

* * *

Hermione checked her watch, 8:30. The dark was settling in around her as she approached the shop. The lights were still on, and she was hoping they would still be open, but it looked like she wasn't going to get that lucky. She quickened her pace as she walked past a particularly dark alleyway, hurried to the doorstep, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"We're closed!" came a voice from the other side of the door.  
She'd been expecting this reply. "It's me!" she yelled back.  
"Who's me?" the disembodied voice asked cautiously.  
"It's Hermione."

The door swung open, and standing in its' place was George Weasley.  
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice serious.  
"No, it's nothing. Nothing's happened yet." She answered, checking over her shoulder out of habit.  
"Well come in then." he told her, pulling her in by one arm "I can't go around just leaving the door wide open."  
"You sound like Mad Eye." She scoffed, but waited while he put the locking and security spells back on the door.

"So," George asked, once he'd turned to face her. "What brings you to our little corner of the world then?"

Hermione shifted uneasily. "I have a sort of favor to ask…" she said, avoiding his eyes. This could either go very well, or become extremely awkward. George looked at her expectantly.

She cleared her throat.  
"I want you to have sex with me."

George's mouth fell open, and he laughed nervously. "You're serious?"

She looked up at him, her mouth dry. "Please, George, I don't know if I'm going to live through tomorrow. I came to you two because I- I knew you'd probably agree and, umm…handle the situation the best."

George's eyes widened as he absorbed what she was saying. There was a moments' pause.

"Right, I think you'd better come upstairs."


	2. Part Two

A/N and Disclaimer  
So, here's some porn. I have the next couple parts finished already, so hopefully they'll be up over the next couple of days. Reviews are love! Thanks guys.

* * *

George pushed open the door to he and Fred's flat. Fred was standing in front of the cupboard, a bottle of firewhiskey held triumphantly in one hand. He looked at Hermione's, and then George's expression.  
"What's wrong?"  
George glanced at Hermione, as if asking permission, and then looked at his brother. "Er, Hermione wants to….sleep with us."

Fred choked on his drink. "Pardon?"

Hermione looked nervously at George, who then explained to Fred what Hermione had just told him minutes before.

"So you're saying, 'We might die tomorrow, lets have sex?'" Fred asked, after George had finished. He took another drink. "I think you should probably talk to Ron about this Hermione, you know, if it's your first time."

"But it's not my first time!" she admitted, exasperated by all of this.

George raised an eyebrow and shot a glance at his twin. "Then that means…"  
"No…couldn't have…" Fred grinned  
"Ickle Ronnikens got lucky?" George nudged Hermione with an elbow, the mood lightening considerably.  
"How was it?" Fred asked, his eyes dancing.

"Terrible."

He grinned. "I knew it." He sat the bottle of firewhiskey on the countertop and then stood next George, resting his arm on his twin's shoulder. "So, did you get off?" he asked her.

"What?"

"Fred, I think the girl would know if she'd gotten off or not. Besides, by the sound of it, little Ronnie had no idea what he was doing and she couldn't possibly have. Properly, at least." George concluded.  
"So why us then?" Fred asked, looking at Hermione.  
She fidgeted. "Well I couldn't very well ask any of your older brothers, Harry would just be weird, and Lupin is off limits now."  
"Very true." George nodded.  
"Lupin? You thought about Professor Lupin?" Fred asked in a mockingly scandalized tone.  
She gave him a coy smile. "Well Tonks certainly isn't complaining."  
Fred cleared his throat, and simultaneously tried to clear the images of Tonks and Lupin out of his brain. They had clearly underestimated their younger brother's girlfriend.

George grabbed Fred by the arm and pulled him aside. "You aren't honestly thinking of doing this, are you?" he whispered hesitantly.  
"Why? Aren't you?" Fred replied, matching his twin's quiet tone. He grinned as George cast a glance over at Hermione, who was watching them nervously.  
"Alright, but you have to be nice…" George's voice trailed off.  
Fred betrayed only the tiniest trace of anger. "You think you need to warn me to go easy on her? I'm not a complete prat you know! I'm fully aware that she's practically a damned virgin."

"I'm staying, either way. It's your decision." stated a nervous voice from across the room. They both turned to face Hermione, Fred grinning like a cat, and George watching Fred.

"Is that right? Awfully determined, aren't you? Won't leave unless we've both given you a proper shag…" Fred had moved across the room, pinning her to the wall with one arm on either side of her, his head bent down to her ear. Here, Fred's voice dropped low, and George saw Hermione flush deeply, saw her quick intake of breath.  
He moved up beside Fred, and she looked at him over his twin's shoulder, her eyes dark. "You're positive?" he asked, his own voice not as steady as he'd have wanted it.  
She nodded, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. He heard Fred chuckle, and then watched him bend down, kissing her slowly, watched him open her mouth with his own, and heard her moan.

"Fred" George heard himself say. His mouth was dry.  
"What's the matter Georgie?" Fred asked, having broken the kiss. Hermione watched them wide eyed. "Jealous?" he breathed. Fred made sure Hermione was watching, tipped George's chin towards him, and kissed him deeply. He laughed a little when they broke away.

"I'm so glad we didn't make plans tonight." Fred turned to Hermione. "Alright, let's go." He picked her up and she let out a little yelp of surprise as she was carried into the bedroom and dumped unceremoniously onto the bed.

She had little time to think before Fred was there, covering her body with his own, undoing buttons and occupying her again with that mouth of his. George had pulled off clothes on his way to the bedroom, and came up behind his brother, resting his hands on Fred's waist before reaching around, toying with the button on his jeans. He felt Fred tense momentarily and then relax, letting George slide the jeans down over his twin's slim hips. There was a sharp intake of breath when Fred yanked down Hermione's underwear and slid a hand under her skirt. She bucked her hips up and cried out, and George couldn't help but to grin. She sat up slightly and pulled her shirt all the way off, taking her bra off with it. She was about to unzip the skirt as well but Fred stopped her. "Leave it on." He growled. Hermione reached up and brought him down for another kiss, and George, still behind his brother, began to work Fred through his thin boxers.

Fred groaned, barely able to concentrate, and slid his hand down again between Hermione's thighs. She was ridiculously wet, and he slid two fingers into her and found the same rhythm George was using on him. They worked together, working each other. He could feel George grinding into him and Hermione was practically fucking herself on his fingers and finally George reached inside his boxers, wrapping his hand tight around Fred and moving faster, his hand slick already. It didn't take long for either them to come, Hermione crying out and then falling back, panting. Fred groaned and shuddered, letting his brother work him until he was spent. Hermione was watching them, not quite able to look away. Fred fell onto the bed and rolled over, and George looked at Hermione.

"George, now."

It was all the permission he needed. He was on her in seconds, devouring every part of her, forcing the skirt off and entering her in one swift movement. She dug her nails into his back and cried his name in a way that very nearly put him over the edge right then. He explored her with his hands as he began to move, taking her hard nipples between his fingers, and then his mouth. He drove into her harder each time, and she clung to him, arching herself until George could feel he was hitting the right spot every time when she forced their hips to meet faster. She cried out his name again when she finally came and he thrust into her deeper, more forceful, and then released, spilling into her.

They collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, with Fred. He smiled wickedly and she closed her eyes and laughed. George grinned and rolled onto his back.

"Go to sleep, we'll make you breakfast in the morning and then Fred can shag you in the shower like he wants to."  
Hermione punched him in the arm, but then curled up between them and fell sound asleep when George put out the remaining lights with a quiet _nox_.

* * *

There wasn't shagging in the shower, but there was some more fooling around in bed when they woke up the next morning with the sunlight streaming through the blinds, warming dappled spots on the bed where it hit. They moved together sleepily, with soft sighs and warm hands and open mouths.  
And afterwards, Hermione drank her tea at the small kitchen table while the twins made eggs and toast.

"Do you really think you'll end up with Ron then?" Fred asked, spatula in hand. George poured a cup of tea for himself and watched her.

Hermione chose her words carefully. "I love Ron, in a different way than I do you two. Yes, I probably will."

Fred tutted at her. "You should marry us. Just think of it- excellent sex, lovely breakfasts," He gestured to the frying pan to demonstrate. "and two handsome and extravagantly rich husbands to take care of you." He sat a plate of eggs in front of her and dropped a piece of toast next to them.

Fred was piling food on his own plate, "Well maybe not _extravagantly_ rich."  
She gave them a half-hearted smile. "You both know that can't happen."  
George smiled sadly. "We're just used to getting what we want."

When she left she gave them both a kiss on the cheek and thanked them for the breakfast, among other things. She left them both standing in the doorway, but took with her two hearts.


	3. Part Three

In the aftermath there was joy, sure, but it intermingled and mixed with the burning pain that was still so fresh. There were so many to bury, so many they had already buried.

When it was done they went back to the normal things, the housekeeping, the repairing of the castle. There was a pun in one of Shakespeare's plays she was thinking of. The man who repaired shoes and called himself the "Mender of Soles", only he spelled it s-o-u-l-s. As day after day was spent putting Hogwarts back together, Hermione began to think of herself as the Mender of Souls. But the pun wasn't as clever as she had once thought it to be.

She watched George break down in the empty Gryffindor common room one evening while the motley crew of Aurors, teachers, and older students dined in the Great Hall. He crumpled to his knees, like an unsupported doll, and sobbed. Something caught in her throat, hard and heavy, as she watched it happen. And she hated herself, because she was just _so tired_ of crying, and she hated George, and Fred, and Professor Lupin…

They found each other in the middle of the room, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he held her so tightly she felt she may stop breathing.

"George?" she whispered into his bad ear, later, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're still here."

George was silent for a minute. When he spoke it sounded forced. "Me too."

Later, when people became genuinely worried, McGonagall found them curled up in one of the large red armchairs in the dark Gryffindor common room. She shook the Weasley boy awake gently, and said nothing to the younger brother except that they were safe, and had been cleaning up the Gryffindor tower together.


	4. Part Four

The day Hermione Granger became Hermione Weasley, it rained like it hadn't in months. While her soon to be in-laws bemoaned their bad fortune, Hermione watched out the window, entranced. She secretly loved the rain, and enjoyed cloudy days, although thunderstorms were her favorite. Others may revel in the sunshine, but she preferred a blanket and a window and some rain.  
Everyone thought her to be very gracious and cheerful even though the storms had ruined her big day.

The reception was held outside at Shell Cottage, under a large enchanted tent, overlooking the sea. By the evening the rain had cleared off and there was somewhat of a sunset before the stars came out. The band played old muggle songs, at Hermione's request, mostly someone called Frank Sinatra that Ron scoffed at. She danced with her father, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Arthur, Neville, Harry, Viktor, and even Fleur's aging father, but George remained in the corner, sipping on his drink and people watching.

Unfortunately, Molly Weasley said (after a few glasses of sherry), this had become his general attitude all the time. She loudly regretted the fact that he was apparently in permanent mourning, and then she laughed and danced off with Charlie, who had overheard his mother and was making a valiant attempt to distract her.

Hermione, glowing in her off the shoulder satin wedding dress, was something to behold. George gave her a kind of lopsided smile as she approached.

"Dance with me." She held out a hand expectantly.  
George sat his drink down on the nearest table and smiled, taking her hand, "Of course."

He had grown his hair out since she'd last seen him, covering what he probably thought was an ugly imperfection, the hole where his left ear had been. He looked like he had her fourth year at school, still laughing, like a 16 year old again, untouched.

"What? Have I got something on my face?" He asked, grinning slightly.  
"You look younger with your hair like that."  
"You look beautiful."

She flushed and looked away, over his shoulder. He grinned wider. Molly was watching them, drunkenly delighted.

He was watching her when she looked up at him again, that sadness in his eyes still there.  
"I guess you really did mean it when you said you would marry my brother then."  
Hermione tensed. "I love him George."  
"I know." He smiled. "I guess I lost that bet then."

She returned his smile and relaxed, resting her head on his shoulder, and didn't see it when George did stop smiling.


	5. Part Five

**Author's Note/Disclaimer  
**Okay, so I have had this sitting around for awhile, and it's just a short addition that I was hoping to expand on before I uploaded it. Also, I apologize for taking so long to update this. I plan on trying to finish it this week while I don't have so many classes to worry about. So hopefully you will have the rest soon. Anyway, there is major character death in this part, giving it another reason that it is not at all canon compliant. :D So, enjoy!  
Additionally, none of the characters are mine.

* * *

She didn't think she'd have to bury her husband so soon. It was ironic, really, that they were just one year shy of the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's death when Ron was killed by one of his stray followers.

Aurors were still flushing random Death Eaters out of far flung countries. Ron had been in Austria for a few weeks on a job. He'd sent postcards by owl. She held on to the last card he'd sent, her hands shaking terribly. They had been talking about trying to have children when he got home.

After it had happened, Kingsley himself had come with an escort to their modest home outside of Ottery St. Catchpole and delivered the news. She'd been doing the laundry when they arrived. The only reason she remembers this is because she was still holding one of his shirts when she answered the door. She still has it.

* * *

For weeks she felt numb inside, like she had nine years ago, only increased tenfold inside of her. She went to the Burrow, but it was harder there, it was her seventh year over again. So she went home, finished the laundry, and then packed her things and went to bury her husband.

The day Hermione Weasley buried the late Ronald Weasley it rained like it had the day they were married. His four remaining brothers carried his coffin, only five siblings remaining now. She didn't cry, she somehow thought that maybe she'd been given an allotted amount of tears to cry, and the allotment was up.

Harry squeezed her hand and asked her if she was okay, looking himself like he hadn't slept in days.

She nodded. "I'll be okay. You?"  
He looked like he might laugh for a minute. "I've seen better days, but we've both seen worse eh?"  
She bit her lip, and smiled at him through blurred vision. The allotment was never up, it seemed. Tears overflowed from Harry's eyes as well.  
"Harry" she hugged him fiercely.  
"I know."  
"Ron's gone."

"_we've both seen worse."_

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

* * *

For a long time afterward she drifted.

It was home for a couple weeks, and then up to months spent in hotel rooms abroad. She earned money as a freelance writer, selling her stories for cash to keep herself busy. Galleons used to keep her away from home, the Burrow, and the people she loved. She went to the Louvre in Paris, she saw the Coliseum in Rome, she got to see the pyramids in Egypt, and realized in Venice that she was still empty.

With a letter from Ginny, Harry and their family clutched in one hand and one from her parents in the other hand, she decided it was time to go home.


End file.
